Picture Books
by EuphoniumGurl0
Summary: Her friends all said that working under Snape had made her sadistic. She begged to differ. She was still as patient and loving as always... unless you were an imbecile. Oliver/Hermione; Snape/Hermione.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is written for the GrangerEnchanted cliche fic challenge. My prompt is apprentice!Hermione. Rest assured, though, this isn't your generic story.

As for "What Fates Impose:" I had a few more chapters written, but they got deleted. Now, I'm trying to get past my frustration to rewrite them, wondering if they'll be as good as they originally were. So, for now, I'm working on this.

Pairings: Oliver Wood/Hermione Granger; Severus Snape/Hermione Granger.

Set post DH ignoring some obvious things.

Chapter 1:

Children were annoying. She loved teaching them enough at Hogwarts, it wasn't the older ones she had a problem with. Sure, her seventh years could act like bumbling fools at times, but most of them had a genuine wish to learn something, to better themselves. She had learned from McGonagall that she need not baby her students; she just had to teach them all she could and help them when they were truly struggling. However, small children were a completely different type.

She knew it would be different if she ever had her own kids. She was a patient woman (even if teaching had sucked some patience out of her), a caring woman, a loving woman. Now, she wasn't passing by old texts and great fiction to benefit someone. She was looking for a gift for Teddy's fifth birthday, and his gram had told her that she didn't have a choice in what she was going to pick him out. She would pick him out a book, but it wouldn't be the type of book she loved. She was going to buy a picture book.

Hermione loved books. Everyone knew that much of her, even if they only knew of her through the statue just down the street or through the press. There wasn't one type of book she hated… except picture books. There was always an overused, uninteresting, and juvenile message that in the end meant nothing. They were a waste of space and precious trees. She pitied the authors who wrote them and every parent who dotingly bought their children several dozen a month.

She had walked straight into dear old Flourish and Blotts and bypassed the best sellers and young adult fiction, only to stop at shelves filled with oversized picture books. She sighed, tapping her foot impatiently as she tried to locate the least bothersome one.

"Hermione Granger?" said a voice behind her.

She turned to the unfamiliar voice and was met with a rather robust man with large, brown eyes. She blinked for a moment, knowing the man in front of her was somehow familiar. Then, it clicked. He was at the final battle. She vaguely remembered seeing him in the Great Hall fighting, and she definitely remembered him carrying wounded fighters to safety as the battle was drawing to a close.

"Oliver Wood?" she asked, surprised to see him.

"It took you long enough!" he exclaimed, a rough laugh escaping his lips and reverberating through her body.

"I'm sorry! Hello, it's good to see you. You look well!"

"As do you. I'm good, and how are you?" he asked, a genuine smile still gracing his face.

That was the one thing she remembered about Oliver Wood, even from their brief encounters, when he was still a student. He was always frank, never pretentious, and he was passionate about everything.

"I'm great. I'm just doing a bit of shopping," she said, laughing when she noticed she was holding a book with a penguin on the cover.

He caught where her gaze was directed and joined her in her laughter.

"This is how you became so brilliant. You save your brain power by reading books with no words in them," he said accusingly, a hint of the previous laughter still in his tone.

"Oh, you caught me! So, what are you doing here?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"I was going to look into curse-breaking texts, actually, when I spotted you," he said sheepishly, pointing to where the books were.

"Curse-breaking? Why would a starter for Puddlemere United need to read up on his curse-breaking?"

"I don't know if that boyfriend of yours has told you anything about me, but I got injured last season. I figure, I'm getting older now. It's not too late for me to think of alternate career paths if I get hurt again. Bill spent some time off season teaching me a few things."

That was unexpected. Oliver Wood was more muscular than she had ever seen him. He wasn't particularly tall, but he was broad shouldered while still managing to look light and flexible. It was quite paradoxical. He seemed to be in the prime of his life and his Quidditch playing. He had even participated in the World Cup last year; Ron and Harry boasted to anyone who would listen, telling tales of their time spent under the direction of such a star (even if Ron hadn't been on the team at that time).

She honestly didn't believe that he would have time for anything beside his full-time career, and even if he was looking to have a backup, she had never really thought of him as particularly intelligent. Oliver Wood always seemed like an athlete, nothing more and nothing less.

"You don't have to look so surprised," he said with a heavy accent. "I'm startin' to get offended here, love."

"Oh. Quite sorry. I was just taken aback. You seem to be at the height of your career."

"I am for now, but it changes so fast, Granger. I plan to have a family some day, and I don't want there to be any problems with money when that day comes 'round," he said seriously.

She looked into his eyes and nodded. It was logical enough.

"I'm sorry, but I've got to run. 'Twas a pleasure."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Hermione alone with her hated childrens' books.

---

"Hermione, dear!" screeched a very happy Molly Weasley, taking Hermione into her arms, squeezing the life out of her.

"Good afternoon, Molly. I hope I'm not late," Hermione greeted, clutching the present under her right arm.

"Not at all, dear. Everyone else is inside. We're letting Teddy open his presents immediately. The little scamp can't wait so you can just hand it right to him."

It was the day of Teddy's birthday party. It was held at the Burrow, and she was not looking forward to it at all. She loved Teddy enough. He was definitely his parents' son. His hair changed with his emotions (since he had yet to learn to control his gift), and it was frequently dark red. Dark red meant he was concentrating, and that meant he was busy reading books well beyond his young years. He had been bought a broom that hovered in the air at five feet, and he could be found sitting on it with a basket tied to the end for his books. She liked Teddy more than some of her blood relatives, but the party atmosphere was not going to be pleasant for her.

She and Ron had mutually decided to split up (much to Molly's disdain) several months ago, and since, Ron had taken to pulling pranks on her. She admitted that she retaliated quite a bit, but George was genuinely angry at her. Prank-pulling was his and Fred's domain, and even though he allowed Ron to work with him at his shops, and even take over as partner, he did not approve of Hermione taking part in the activities. She found it extremely irrational, and it barely made sense to her. However he was truly angry, probably figuring that she was trying to wipe out Fred's memory, and he showed it every opportunity he got. She didn't know how to mend the problem.

Walking into the party, it took only a second to be enveloped in a hug by Ron and Harry. Both let go after a few seconds, saying their greetings, and scolding her for not writing more while she was at work or sneaking out on weekends to have a pint.

Next was Ginny Potter, who also hugged her best friend, before slapping her lightly across the shoulders for the same reason she was scolded by Ron and Harry.

"Aunt Hermione!" little Teddy screeched, running up to her and hugging her leg before taking the present and running off.

"Hello, Ted," she said absentmindedly, long after he had run off. Everyone laughed.

"So, how has everything been? How's teaching?" Harry asked, his hand loosely wrapping itself around Ginny's waist.

Hermione smiled at the gesture. They still acted as if they were just starting to date. She knew statistically that this was close to impossible, but here it was, right in front of her- true love.

"I almost miss just sitting in the back of the class, learning how to teach. It's the end of my final year, and with teaching and all my other duties, I feel quite overwhelmed all the time," she said, sitting on the arm of a sofa, hoping Mrs. Weasley wouldn't swoop in to reprimand her.

"Ah, well, you knew what you were getting yourself into," Harry reminded her.

"I still think you're mad," Ron added in, patting her back lightly.

"Ronald…" Hermione said, trailing off as she gave him a look through narrowed eyes.

"Hermione?" hee asked with a straight face, even sounding confused.

"A 'Kick me!' sign? Really?" she asked, moving her hand to her back to peel it off.

The trio burst out laughing while Ginny rolled up the piece of parchment and whacked Ron over the head with it.

"Now, that wasn't very nice, Potter," said the same voice as yesterday.

Hermione was very surprised to stare into the eyes of Oliver Wood again so soon.

"He deserved it. Look what he was putting on Hermione's back!" Ginny exclaimed, unrolling the sign and showing it to him.

Hermione blushed in embarrassment, not being able to help herself. It felt like she was getting into akward situations around him, and she didn't like it… nor did she know why it was so much more embarrassing around him.

"Not a smart move, lad. This one's got fire to her," Oliver commented with a small grin, winking at Hermione.

She had to force herself not to blush this time, not breaking eye contact with him.

"I knew she wouldn't fall for it, but you can't blame a bloke for trying. So, mate, how have things been on your end? Are you ready to get pummeled on the 21st?" Ron asked, nudging Oliver and causing the eye contact between Hermione and him to be broken.

"Pummeled, eh? By who? Not 'chur team you're talkin' about, I hope," he replied, a fire now burning in his eyes.

"Boys," Ginny tried to intervene with a firm tone.

"I'm ready to see both of you be pummeled by the Russians," Harry added, his arm leaving Ginny's waist as he joined the Quidditch conversation.

Hermione wondered if Ginny would join in, too. She had two options if that were to happen: She could stand there awkwardly, not understanding three quarters of what they were saying, or she could walk away and chat up strangers, hoping all the men and half of the women in the room wouldn't be drawn in. She looked from the man with the black hair to the redhead to the brunette. Oliver gestured frantically, the hair standing up on the back of his neck.

She didn't know many who got animalistic traits like that, but it definitely wasn't unwelcome.

Hermione shook her head and chastised herself for her impure thoughts. She didn't have long to dwell on it as Ginny removed herself from the now triangle and took Hermione's hand, pulling her away.

"Boys will be boys. Oliver and Ron play, but what's Harry's excuse?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

Hermione chuckled lightly, her eyes roaming over to Oliver before going back to Ginny. "I'm just glad you don't participate in these conversations anymore. I was afraid my source of intelligent conversation would have to come from five year olds."

"Not to worry, Hermione. I'm here!" the former Weasley exclaimed, a smirk slowly creeping onto her face.

"…What?" Hermione asked, not liking the look Ginny was getting. Despite being put in Gryffindor, Ginny had always been the most Slytherin-like of the bunch. She'd even dated one before Harry finally came to his senses and snapped out of his depression after the war.

"I see you're admiring Oliver's… sense of style… especially the faded part of his jeans around his arse," Ginny said, a full-blown smirk now gracing her features.

Hermione gasped, her hand coming to her mouth. "Ginny!"

Ginny shrugged, her face smug as her friend's cheeks turned crimson.

"Everything alright, love?" Harry asked as conversation stopped at Hermione's outburst.

"Everything is fine, dear," Ginny reassured, the smirk still not off her face as Hermione hid her face in her hands.

"It's okay, Herms," Ron said, coming over to pat Hermione's back.

Hermione didn't even try to remove the 'Kick me!' sign this time. She felt enough embarrassment. To make matters worse, Oliver also walked over to where the two women were standing and took the sign off, tsking at Ron.

"I'll get you something to drink," he offered, moving into the kitchen to presumably grab a glass of water.

"So, what really happened?" Harry asked, eying Hermione.

"She's got the hots for a certain Quidditch player," Ginny said and added, "but it's not you, Ron," when Ron gasped.

Hermione groaned, finally lifting her head. "I saw him yesterday for the first time in four years. Leave me----"

"GRANGER!"

The whole room, children included this time, turned toward the door.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but you have to add fluxweed to your potion NOW! I will discontinue this apprenticeship and refuse your position next year if you neglect your duties AGAIN! NOW, GO!"

It was none other than Severus Snape, his hair still as black as it was twenty years ago and twice as slimy. The only difference was that he seemed to have gained even more of a freakish control over his robes and had them billowing even when he was standing still.

"Relax, Professor. This is a child's party," Arthur Weasley broke in, luring the children away from the living room and outside into the garden.

"I apologize, Weasley. However, I require my apprentice to fulfill her duties even if a life-changing potion seems trivial to you," Snape sneered, locking eyes with the Weasley.

"I requested today off," Hermione said, simply dismissing the man that seemed to strike fear into the hearts of most of the partygoers.

"Yes, you did. However, I will not look over your projects. You are responsible for them," Severus sneered.

"I requested that Neville add the ingredient for me. It is the easiest to add, and all he has to do is simply pick it up and drop it in. Yet, I still wrote him detailed instructions," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"YOU IMBECILE! The boy cannot even brew a first year's potion, and you're having him be part of your original creations?" Severus was now outraged, his black eyes bulging.

"Oh, leave it. I've another batch, and I'll thoroughly inspect it when I get back. Now, please leave," she requested, sighing impatiently.

"I will only do so when you accompany me so that you may do your brewing," Snape bellowed, a scowl deeply engraved in her face.

"I mean no disrespect, Snape, but you've to go now. You're ruining a lovely party," Oliver said, coming back from the kitchen and handing a bottle of water to Hermione.

"Shut up, boy. This does not concern you," Snape said, merely waving him off.

"You're being quite disrespectful. Please leave before I forcibly remove you, and I do not mean through magic," Oliver said, pocketing the wand he had drawn seconds earlier.

It was like watching an old muggle movie- a western. Hermione imagined, rather comically, both of them donning cowboy boots with little stars on the side and taking three steps backward before firing old-fashioned pistols. Who would win? The hero or the villain?

Hermione started to giggle inaudibly. However, in the dead silence of the room, it echoed. She supposed that the stares she was getting were appropriate. They were probably wondering if she had gone insane, possibly out of fright. But how could she be afraid of Severus? She had learned to be fearless around him. For Merlin's sake, she caught him wearing polka dot boxers when she walked into the lab late one night to find him brewing.

They were gray and lime green. She wondered if she could get away with drawing smiley faces on them.

She burst out laughing this time.

"Hermione…?" Ron asked her, but she ignored him.

"Excuse me," she said, taking a sip of the water, "I'm going to go see if Teddy likes his book."

She walked outside, still giggling madly, ignoring the possible fight between her mentor and the bloke she had grown fond of (as fond as she could grow over the course of two days and fifty syllables).


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's chapter two with a bit of light smut. No Oliver in this one, but he'll be back next chapter.

Chapter 2:

She groaned, not wanting to believe this was real.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. Really. I thought I knew what I was doing. All I had to do was drop it in, but I bloody went and messed that up. Your instructions had me second guessing myself. I figured, alright, obviously it can't be that simple… I'm sorry!" he exclaimed.

It was _that_ bloody simple. All he literally had to do was pick up the ingredient and drop it in. He didn't have to stir, nor did he have to time it perfectly. There was a window of half an hour where he could simply drop it in. Pick it up and drop it in.

And that wasn't the worst of it. The worst part was that she now had to face Snape. He had been right, and he would hold it over her for the rest of her life (or at least the remainder of their apprenticeship). She wanted to blow Neville's brains out and then kill herself, for the alternative may as well be death.

And they said she had become a sadistic person, learning under Snape.

"It's alright, Neville. I understand where you may have been confused. It's not your fault. You do a very good job in the greenhouses, and I couldn't ask for anything more," she said, patting Neville on his back.

"I can't even imagine what the Professor's going to put you through," Neville said, moving his back against her hand as if he were a kitten. He may as well have purred for her.

Stupid boy. Thank the gods he was good at _something_, or else he would become the burden of the state. May as well label him as mentally handicapped. Her owl was more intelligent.

"Call him Severus, Neville. He's your colleague, and besides, what's he going to do? Take points?" she snorted. He probably would. But she wasn't going to let Neville know that. He was likely to _actually_ commit suicide.

"He still scares me, Hermione. I don't know how you can call him that."

"I've been studying under him for four years. Those four years, before he announced his intent to retire and offered me the position, I was locked up with him day and night. During that time, Neville, he was cruel and insufferable, and he would sometimes literally curse me for my mistakes. And praise? Praise was something I came not to expect for my accomplishments. I fear not the man that strikes fear into the hearts of these students. In fact, I laugh at him," she exclaimed.

"You laugh at me?" asked a silky voice behind her.

He pulled out a chair and sat down next to her on the other side of Minerva, who had taken over the position of Headmistress when Snape announced that he wanted to continue teaching.

"I do," she confirmed, watching as Neville got up and practically ran out of the Great Hall.

Even though Neville had been a hero during the war, had saved countless of lives when at Hogwarts, and managed to be a surprisingly strict Herbology Professor, he was always reduced to that incompetent first year while around Snape.

"And pray tell, why is that?" he asked, a smirk coming onto his face.

"Hermione, don't encourage him," Minerva said, munching on French toast, her lips in a tight line.

"You're an usually cruel man who goes into the world pretending that he doesn't care what happens to his students when, in fact, you are as much of a savior of the wizarding world as Harry is, if not more. And I know for a fact that you keep tabs on particular students even _when_ they leave Hogwarts. Also, I know for a fact that these _favorites_ are generally not Slytherins. In fact, most of them are Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs," Hermione snarled, "and hell, you have to like me somewhat to have kept me around for four years!"

"My _dear_ Hermione," Snape countered, "the only reason I've kept you here for these _joyous_ four years is because I entered into a legal, binding four year agreement. If you want to speak about facts, ponder this: I am required, by school law, to take on an apprentice every twenty years, and I am approaching that mark quite soon. My options would have been to take on a complete imbecile or to pick a student who, despite not having natural ability, will work hard just to prove that she can do it without failure. The thought of having another student like you, even if it is twenty more years away, has caused me so much grief that I am taking an early retirement. Do not think for one moment that I find you enjoyable to be around because I hardly find you _competent_, Professor."

Ouch. Well, she had to admit that it made sense. She, in fact, had read through the school's laws per request of the governors (and also because she wanted to), and she remembered seeing that rule. She had assumed that Snape was somehow exempt, an assumption that, she realized, did not make sense.

Hermione sat there for a few seconds, shell-shocked. She had expected to win this argument, but it seemed that she would not.

"I'm finished; I'll see you during second period."

---

The third year Gryffindors and Slytherins annoyed her. There was a particular group of girls that she didn't want to teach half the time. One of them was particularly smart, and the other was particularly inept at potions making. The first girl, Mariska, was in Saint Mungo's because of severe Dragon Pox, and, suddenly, the second girl, Tally, had started failing all of her potions tests. This was not a coincidence, Hermione knew. She had done the same thing for Neville. However, the lab having to be evacuated three times in the past week because of toxic explosions was not something Hermione appreciated.

Especially not when she had to clean up the mess.

Besides that, students had all suddenly seemed to contract some sort of illness that was present only during potions class. That was not because Hermione was a cruel teacher like Snape. In fact, most of her students could openly be heard in the halls talking about how much more they enjoyed potions now. It was because they feared for their lives.

Hermione knew it was her own fault. Like Snape had not let her help Neville, she should not have let Mariska help Tally, because now the girl didn't know how to do anything. She wondered if she could brew a first year's potion. She highly doubted it.

As Hermione began to bang her head against the arm of her favorite sofa, she heard the door open.

"I see the classroom is cleaner than I left it this morning," Snape scoffed, walking into their shared rooms and standing opposite of where she was laying.

"Tally Evans," Hermione simply said, not having the courage to look at Snape.

"When Miss Hutchins comes back, perhaps you will not allow her to assist Miss Evans so much," Snape said, a dark laughter gracing his voice. "Or maybe I should build a lab off to the side to quarantine her."

"You've mocked me enough for today, Snape," Hermione said, turning her body so that her back was facing him.

That was a big no-no. It took two days into her first year of apprenticeship for Severus to poison her. It was only a week after that that she found half her textbooks destroyed. She hadn't even cleaned up the mess when she found that her potions supplies had also gone missing.

'Constant vigilance' was not something only Moody practiced. As a future potions' mistress, Hermione had lost all her trust in mankind. Snape had taught her to guard everything well and drink from her own flask. Turning your back meant that your things could be stolen- your research, your potions, your texts, your anything and everything.

"You silly girl. You will never survive teaching if you allow one student to ruin your life. You are nowhere near ready for this. I will take over your classes starting tomorrow," he growled.

Hermione jumped up immediately, the bottom of her jeans billowing since she did not have robes on. She was frustrated, but she was not ready to give up her classes. She only had a small, precious amount of time left before she had to teach on her own fulltime. Was Snape planning on giving her the boot? Maybe permanently?

No, Minerva wouldn't let him do that.

"You're an ass, Snape. I'm not letting one student ruin my life. The only one who is ruining it is you. If I come to hate the students, it's because of you," she shouted, glad to finally get that across.

Snape's face was impassive as he considered her words for a moment. Then, he grabbed her arm and yanked her up. Hermione wasn't expecting it and fell straight into his body. It took her only a split second to register that his lips were on hers and she had instinctively began to kiss him back.

She pushed him away, her lips turning into a snarl, her already flushed face becoming even redder. "I'm angry with you for being so harsh with me this morning!" she screeched.

"You deserved it, witch. You were being incorrigible. Now, silence."

He had crossed the gap between them again and began to kiss her, his tongue slipping easily between her lips, something he was very comfortable with doing. Hermione's hands remained at her side in defiance, but her tongue ran against his with the same fury his did.

She was definitely still angry with him, she confirmed, feeling herself being pushed into a bedroom with black silk sheets and deep blue walls. This wasn't the first time she was in this room which happened to be the bedroom of the man who was now kissing her neck.

Definitely angry, she said in her head once more for prosperity as his wand found their bodies and magically stripped them. Snape was not ashamed of his lanky body, his skin tight in places it should've been drooping by now, his stomach oddly toned and flat unlike her own which had a slight bump to it. His body was even paler than his face, and it glowed from the light from the adjoining room.

He was graceful as he lifted her body onto the bed, on top of the sheets. Wasting no time with frivolous exploration, Severus's hand found its way to her inner thighs as he laid next to her, kissing her lips once again.

Hermione gasped, as she always did, when Severus's hand found its way to the lips covering her opening. Her mind stopped wandering as she closed her eyes, freeing her hair of the pony tail she had been sporting with one hand, her other hand finding its way to his back. The sensation of him rubbing one long digit teasingly around her clit while kissing her furtively caused an overload of senses for her.

It did not take her long to climax, but then again, it never did with him. Just as his hand and his mouth left her body simultaneously, he positioned himself and entered her swiftly. His cock stroked her inner walls while they were still pulsing from her orgasm. He lowered his head to see himself pounding into her for only a moment before she could feel his eyes on her.

She opened her eyes as she always did, searching the depths of his soul for any trace of emotion. She knew it was pointless and resigned to closing her eyes and throwing her head back. The springs of the bed creaked from the deep strokes Snape was taking. He was fucking her into the mattress, and she loved it.

When Snape pulled out, he yanked the sheets out from underneath him and covered himself, ready for an afternoon nap.

"I'm still mad at you," Hermione said defiantly.

"I'll be sure to mull that over as you leave my room. I don't need your incessant after-babble," he said, rolling over onto his stomach, completely ignoring her.

Hermione didn't give him the pleasure of indignation. She simply got up, took her wand from the jeans that were discarded on the floor, and silently cursed a pink patch of hair onto the back of his head.

He wouldn't notice.

A/N: Voila! I hope you liked it. Right now, this story isn't doing too well with reviews and whatnot so... I dunno. We'll see how long I decide to make it.


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